


Kenny x Kyle

by corrupted_quiet



Category: South Park
Genre: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Holding Hands, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-28 18:06:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5100506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corrupted_quiet/pseuds/corrupted_quiet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Craig and Tweek might be South Park's latest couple, but it isn't exactly by choices of their own. Their new openness does meet one roadblock: the town's real gay kids.<br/>Direct spoilers for 19.06, "Tweek x Craig", everyone is of age (as usual)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kenny x Kyle

This was an arrangement of convenience. If there’s one thing they’ve learned over the course their lifetime in this town, it’s that following the mob’s expectations keeps things civil. Or it at least keeps people off their backs.

That’s what led to this, their mutual agreement, both of them felt—for the _town’s sake_ —this relationship is what’s best. If people _think_ they’re a thing, they might have some degree of breathing room, a return to the normalcy they lost after a few new students decided to scribble a few semi-pornographic images of them and call it an art. ‘Forbidden Love,’ yeah, that’s what the kids are calling friendship these days.

Luckily, people aren’t asking all that much of them. So, in this case, Craig Tucker honestly doesn’t mind walking down the streets of ShPa Town, hand-in-hand with Tweek Tweak, playing boyfriend with his best friend. Sure, he still has to get used to having Tweek’s perpetually tremoring hand clasped with his, fingers tapping continuously at his knuckles, keeping the full-limb twitches at bay; but the slight nuisance is nothing compared to the hell that broke loose when they tried _refuting_ it.  

The new historic district, necessitated by the influx of political correctness that thrusted South Park into the glorious year of 2015, typically overflows with residents, all indulging in the fineries of gentrification. But today, in the lazy hours approaching noon, in that fuzzy stretch of time between breakfast and lunch, few lounge outside the ethnic restaurants or drift through the tents designated for various arts and crafts displays. A rare veil of quiet falls over the avenue, and such silence has never sounded so sweet to Craig’s ears.

He leans his head back, basking in the cold sunbeams and lack of commentary. The flaps of his chullo brush against his ears, woolly fibres tickling the exterior, toying with the few strands of sleek black combed behind. No, this isn’t so bad, he thought, his ice blue eyes watching the clouds up above migrate, east to west, like large billows of cigarette smoke. Not ideal by any means, but nothing he can’t endure. And people say he’s a heartless guy who only cares about his own well-being.

Okay, so the breakup Tweek staged made him look a little too much like a tool for his liking. And, yeah, maybe he thought that might make it a little harder for him to score. But that had nothing to do with it. Or the whispers he’s heard claiming something along the lines of _‘bisexuality is pretty hot’_. Those certainly never played a factor in his decision making.

Tweek can’t claim his moral reasoning much better, though. While Craig may not be the Good Samaritan, taking one for the team, Tweek mostly utilises this fake relationship status to stave off the stresses brought on by questions surrounding them _not_ being together. Obsessive thoughts are one thing—one thing he can relate to too well—but being victimised by the collective’s obsession? That does wonders in crippling his already rampant anxiety.

A spasm runs down his other arm, Tweek bringing his free hand from his side to his shoulder. His hazelnut eyes slam shut, stained teeth chattering together as the singular surge subsides into regular jitters. Two fingers absently toy with a clump of haystack hair, grown into a spikey mess from how often he pulls at it. Perhaps the saturation of caffeine in his blood inhibits him from enjoying the serenity of their walk, prevents him from taking it in the way Craig does. Or maybe it’s the fear of this arrangement, somehow, turning on its head and turning them into the next problematic individuals to be tied up with saran wrap.

Crazier things have happened in this town.

Craig lets out a whistling sigh, hand getting heavier as the relaxation reaches each muscle. There’s something vaguely pleasant about the solitude, gifting them a special solace Craig nearly forgot about. He missed the background status, the secondary importance, the lack of responsibility on his part. He likes being a side-note, present but not necessary, able to roam in and out of people’s lives when and how he pleases. Being thrust into the limelight on account of some stupid _yaoi_ just put a whole dent in that reputation he’d spent years fine-tuning, warping his distant cool guy persona into a goddamn _seme_ stereotype.

Tweek glances over, lips playing at a smile. His body may not recognise a state of calm, but his mind does. Even though his nerves still jump, he concedes some mental ground to comforting thoughts, allows a pause in paranoia. In all honesty, the truth of their relationship doesn’t matter, ultimately, and they are still true to each other. _They_ both know they’re _not_ dating, so all the pressures of being a good boyfriend are off the table. Really, all their status entails is a little bit of hand-holding drizzled on top of their typical friendship, and deferring questions of sex life as ‘too personal’ for them to answer.

“D-do you think,” He stammers, voice high and trilling. Craig’s eyes flit to him, cautiously. Tweek blinks, wildly, the only way he knows how, one eye faster than the other. He waits out the tic before continuing, “We can, like, not hold hands?”

Craig stares at him, a second, as the gloss of snow on the concrete crunches under their boots. His tongue presses to the roof of his mouth, weighing the options in his brain. Tweek’s eyes widen as Craig’s expression grows pensive, nervously awaiting a response. Then, Craig finally shakes his head, because he doesn’t like it but there’s too much risk involved now, “Dude, what if someone _sees us_? _I’m_ sure as hell not dealing with that.”

Tweek lets out a groan; to think, gay youth all across America would _kill_ to deal with _their_ problems. He lolls his head to the side, “Yeah, I gue—”

_PFF!_

“ _Motherfucker!_ ” Craig shouts, snow splattering across his shoulder blades. It isn’t the sudden cold, wet sensation that makes him yell, but the sharp, hard one. A loaded snowball, dirty trick that hides the sinister nature of the projectile thrown, unfair and hurtful.

“ _GAH!_ ” Startled, Tweek releases Craig’s hand, holding both of his up in the air, in fear. His eyes flutter, fixing on the nape of his neck. He watches Craig massage the base of his skull, knead the tenderness, muttering a slew of curses under his breath.

“ _’Ey, lovebirds!_ ”

Craig and Tweek whip around, called by a familiar voice to look behind. Their eyes fall on two boys, two they know well from classroom dealings and extracurricular scuffles. Irritation washes over Craig’s face as his neck stings, while Tweek simply stares dumbfounded.

Kenny and Kyle stand together, just a few pavement slabs away, their eyes both alit with some wickedness. The green of Kyle’s eyes shine with more annoyance, tinted with mockery, while the blue of Kenny’s sparkle with mischief, alive with irritation. A few snowy crystals stick to one of Kenny’s gloves, indicating him the pitcher. A loose smile lingers on Kyle’s face, him the owner of the beckoning voice. The two stare down Craig and Tweek, zippers of their coats only partly up, belts only strung through some of their pants’ loops, and _their_ _hands_ intertwined.

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me,” Craig thinks aloud. Seriously, was this gay thing a _trend_ now? Was this a Japanese conspiracy imported and implemented overnight? Was this going to happen to _everyone_?

“Oh, there ain’t no joke in this, Tucker,” Kenny smirks, tilting his head to the side. The way he moves, the hood of his parka exposes his neck. Splashes of purpled skin trail up from below the coat’s neckline to the base of his ear, with a few short blond locks reaching to cover the discolouration.

“No joke?” Tweek parrots, pitch high and voice spastic. The wires in his brain cross and spark, electrocuting him before the thought fully forms. It takes him a moment to have the concept cement, and another for him to entirely understand it, “ _No joke?!_ ”

“Yeah,” Kyle lets the pride drip from his words, honeyed hubris. More curls than usual stick out from under the ears of his ushanka, frazzled and ruffled, almost like they’d been yanked on. His neck bears similar patterns to Kenny’s, only the bruises appear darker due to his slightly lighter complexion, “Like, we’re the _real_ thing.”

“And what makes you think we’re _not_?” Craig narrows his eyes. He betrays himself, asking this, wanting so badly for things to go back to before he was publically denoted as the town’s beloved homosexual, but well aware that the town won’t reconcile with him if another ‘break-up’ rolls around.

Kenny and Kyle look at one another, conversing through their gaze, and burst out laughing. Something about the way they nearly double over, but still keep their fingers woven in a knitted tapestry, really pisses Craig off.

“Dude, not that you’re not,” Kenny speaks between chuckles, grinning a little as Kyle keeps laughing. He lifts a finger, gestures at the both of them, establishing Tweek and Craig as a joint entity, and says, “But _you’re_ not.”

“What? Are you the _gay police_?” Craig sneers. He doesn’t know why he’s so defensive, when he never was a fan of this; he’s even less a fan of how those two keep talking about him, though.

Tweek struggles to laugh, to back Craig up, but it sounds as forced as it is. He ends up gulping, right as the noise leaves his lips, nearly choking on the remaining vibrations. This is a time when he wishes his wit a little sharper, but making snarky comments is just _too much pressure_.

Kyle rolls his eyes, “There’s a reason I hated the whole metrosexual craze. But I guess you _forgot_ about _that_ one too.”

Both Craig and Tweek open their mouths to reply, but can’t find the words. They do remember those times, and all the other waves in between. Hell, thinking about it again, it makes some… sense. But Craig Tucker would rather die than grant them a shred of credence, “So wha’do’ya want us to do?”

“Easy,” Kyle leans a bit, on Kenny’s arm. His head rests against his shoulder, and Kenny in turn rests his head on Kyle’s, “Step back and let the _pros_ handle this one.”

Craig and Tweek stand there, staring down an ultimatum, one implied by both Kenny and Kyle’s daring gazes. Either they back down now, while they have the chance, or this turns into a competition neither of them feel inclined to participate in. The two turn to one another, stare, and consider. On one hand, this would mean returning to the town’s subjectivity surrounding their relationship, turning one a scapegoat and the other a victim of some domestic abuse; on the other, this would mean having to get gayer for appearance sake, progressing from feigning to faking it.

Their choice appears obvious.

“Count _us_ out,” Craig takes a step back from Tweek, holding his hands up. Tweek does the same, acting Craig’s mirror. They clear a thin path on the sidewalk, enough space between them for the pair to pass, “ _Go for it._ ”

Kyle smiles, smug and triumphant. There’s a certain appeal, to having things go just as he planned. Alternatively, he planned on punching Craig in the nose or kicking Tweek in the stomach; luckily the town’s real queer kids didn’t end up marred with homophobia comments in defence of the stage gays.

Kenny winks, approving and content. This whole thing was more Kyle’s idea than his, but he takes some responsibility for getting Kyle in the mentality. Something about hard fucking in the Whole Foods bathroom really inspired him to do something about this whole slash controversy.

Without a second glance, they step forward, walking on down the street. They pass between Craig and Tweek, without a care, and keep going. The lunch hours finally dawn, and cars start driving down the street, searching for parking spaces outside their dining destinations and searching for what their now cultured appetites crave. And now, they’ll get to see the _real_ new couple.

Well South Park, welcome to 2015.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, so Trey and Matt did not hit me the fuck up like I asked them to and while I liked tonight's new episode I have a little append. Which I wrote literally in one sitting (so it likely has mistakes, sorry) just to get it out of me even though I have a five page paper to do. Priorities?!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Here's hoping you maybe enjoyed, although I know there are probably going to be a few of you upset that I casually invaded the Creek tag with not really actually shippy Creek. This is the only time, guys, I swear.


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